Semper Fidelis
by Cocoisbutter
Summary: Harry and Draco discover that the war was just the beginning – and that Voldemort left more than just scars to deal with. Magical creature Draco. Set immediately after the war, HPDM slash.
1. New Year, New Secrets

**Title:** **Semper Fidelis**

**Summary:** Harry and Draco discover that the war was just the beginning – and that Voldemort left more than just scars to deal with. Magical creature Draco. Set immediately after the war, HPDM slash.

**Chapter 1 – New Year, New Secrets**

"_Please_, Draco," said his mother. "Come and eat."

Draco stared blankly ahead, not moving a muscle. They had just crossed into the New Year, but he could not escape the past. Memories and thoughts – of _what if_ – wouldn't leave him, no matter how hard he tried to condition his mind to think of something – _anything_ – else.

"We had to do what we did," she said quietly. "I know you blame us for many things, but we only did what we thought was best for you." She paused. "For us," she added.

Draco looked straight ahead, refusing to turn to her.

"Come, Draco," she pleaded. "You haven't eaten in two days, and I know what happens when you try to sleep…you can't stop screaming in your nightmares. You must be so tired. We all are." She reached out, but Draco filched.

"He needs to know," Lucius spoke up.

Draco raised an eyebrow – it was the first time his father had spoken directly to anyone other than the House Elves since their return to the Manor.

"He needs to eat," Narcissus hissed.

Lucius slowly rose from his chair. "He needs to know," he said, louder. He stared at his wife defiantly.

Narcissus glared at her husband, squaring her shoulders – it was what she instinctively did when she was gearing up for a fight.

"The longer we wait, the worse it becomes," Lucius continued ominously. "For _him_," he added, his voice deepening with anger.

Draco frowned. It was rare for his parents to lose their cool like this in private, around each other no less. The argument had also piqued his interest – it sounded as if they were discussing _him_.

He cleared his throat, but neither elder Malfoy seemed to take any notice.

"For _him_, or for _you_?" his mother asked, her voice shrill with contempt. "_You _of anyone should know best, the consequences if word gets out!"

"Voldemort's dead and so is Albus Dumbledore," Lucius snarled. "Who will speak for him now?"

Draco cleared his throat, louder this time.

"The signs have yet to manifest! He needs to gather his strength before trying to lift the curse of a dead tyrant!" Narcissus replied angrily.

Draco's eyebrows shot up.

Lucius took a step forward, then stopped abruptly.

"The last time we tried to protect him, we failed," he said quietly, turning towards his son. "And we cannot hope to succeed this time, not without help."

His last words had their desired impact on Narcissus, who sank down into her chair. Lucius moved to sit next to her, placing his hand over hers in a comforting gesture. Draco watched with slight fascination as his parents regained their composure, as if their earlier outbursts hadn't happened just minutes ago.

"Is there something I should know?" Draco asked expectantly.

Lucius cleared his throat. "There is something…" he trailed off, turning to his wife.

"Draco," she began, "Do you remember the Dark Lord's last request of us?"

Draco frowned.

"He wanted you to prove your allegiance," she murmured.

"I remember that," he replied bitterly.

"He was unhappy," Lucius interjected. "Unhappy that you hesitated, and unhappy that you ultimately failed him."

"I remember that too," said Draco, harsher than he meant to.

"He suspected that you never would be as loyal as he expected," Narcissus said softly. "He always knew your father and I were self-serving, but with you he felt a certain sense of…disregard towards him. He never felt that you deserved the privileges we asked for; to keep you safe from Dumbledore's Army and even from others on our own side. He felt that he needed some sort of guarantee that you would do his bidding if he ever lost the war – not that he expected to lose. It was just another one of his ways of amusing himself," she paused.

Draco's frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

"She means that he cursed you," Lucius said simply.

Draco laughed dryly. "I'm cursed as it is," he muttered darkly.

Lucius shook his head. "I'm serious, Draco," he said, "The only reason we know about it was because Bellatrix couldn't keep her mouth shut for boasting that she was the one who gave him the idea."

"That bitch," Narcissus whispered.

Draco studied his parents' faces. Narcissus was livid – he'd only seen her this angry few times before, during the final moments of the war when the real battles were being fought. Lucius, on the other hand – his expression frightened Draco. He had never seen his father look so…_dejected_.

"What is it?" he asked, more urgently this time. "What did he do?!"

His parents exchanged a concerned look. "Maybe now isn't the best time –" Narcissus began, but Lucius silenced her.

"He was inspired by his connection with Harry…he thought to use that against you" he said quietly.

Draco stared at his father, not quite sure of what he'd just heard.

"I don't understand," he said slowly.

"He used the _Semper Fidelis_ charm on you, Draco," his mother started to explain. "It's ancient magic, something even older than horcruxes. He meant it as a cruel joke, and nothing would have happened if not for how he used it after he had split himself into the horcruxes.

"A _Semper Fidelis_ is traditionally a love charm, the most powerful of all. It was banned because of how destructive it could become – if one was bound to another under the charm, he or she would have no choice but to effectively bond with the other. Not just physically, but mind and soul. The only alternative is to kill the partner, but even then the charm created such strong feelings – complicated feelings, especially when either party was unwilling to accept their fate – that desperation to be free from its effects often destroyed both partners.

"When he placed the charm on you, he expected it to work in such a way that Harry Potter would always be indebted to you, in the deepest sense. He would long for you, so much that he would not be able to live without you. Eventually, the charm would destroy the both of you. At least, that was what Bellatrix had in mind.

"But when your father and I heard about it, we convinced Snape to deliver a special concoction that would prevent Harry from becoming susceptible, as long as you too drank the same potion. Your father and I have been sending it to you over the years, in Chocolate Frogs, perfume vials, pumpkin juice…we've had to be creative so nobody would suspect anything," she paused. "As long as you had a dose a year, you were safe. We gave you each at least three doses every year, just to be extra careful. Extra doses have no side effects, as far as anyone knows."

Draco stared at her, speechless.

"For a while we thought we were safe from the spell; that we had successfully managed to circumvent its effects. Snape was one of the best potion masters, and we suspect he shared the information with Dumbledore – that was how he got access to some of the rare ingredients he needed."

"But then we hadn't known about the last horcrux till only recently," she said bitterly.

"Why does the horcrux matter?" Draco asked – the information was a complete shock to him.

Lucius cleared his throat. "The horcrux added another dimension to the spell that we hadn't anticipated. It made it _real_," he said simply.

"I don't understand," Draco said, staring at his father.

"The reason you've felt so bitter; the reason you're so upset – it's because of the charm's effect after the last horcrux was destroyed, and because we've run out of the special concoction," his mother said.

"What happened when the last horcrux was destroyed?" Drao asked, looking frantically from one parent to the other.

Narcissus sighed.

"The last horcrux was within Harry," she began, "which he destroyed himself," she paused. "In doing so, there were few things that could keep him alive. Your connection with him was one of them. _You _helped keep him alive, without knowing it. The charm strengthened the unspoken bond between the both of you, and you suffer deeper consequences in trying to fight it now."

Draco stared, his eyes wide open in disbelief.

"What are you saying?" he whispered. "I don't understand."

"The depression – the bitterness, the disappointment, the fear, the pain – part of what you feel is coming from him, and part of what he feels is your pain. You share the same pool of consciousness, it's starting to intermingle. The longer you spend apart from him, the worse you will feel. Even the potion couldn't help you much now, not after the impact of destroying the horcrux," Lucius explained.

"What do I do now?!" asked Draco, just managing to stop himself from going hysterical.

"Calm down, Draco," Narcissus said, her voice strangely soothing. "There is something else we haven't shared with you."

"Your mother and I haven't told anyone else," added Lucius, "not even the Dark Lord knew."

"You have faerie ancestors," said Narcissus, almost triumphantly. "Your great-grandfather's wife was a fully-fledged faerie, and you inherited her lineage. You will come into inheritance on your next birthday, and by then you will be powerful enough."

Draco looked at her, not quite understanding what she meant. "Powerful enough for what?"

Narcissus gazed at Draco, her expression unreadable. "To kill him," she said simply. "That is your only option, Draco. To kill Harry, or to convince him to love you," she murmured.


	2. The Boy Who Won The War

**Title:** **Semper Fidelis**

**Summary:** Harry and Draco discover that the war was just the beginning – and that Voldemort left more than just scars to deal with. Magical creature Draco. Set immediately after the war, HPDM slash.

**Chapter 2 – The Boy Who Won The War**

Harry struggled to keep his expression neutral. There had been countless press conferences since the war ended – far too many, he thought. Yet he was far from used to them. And here he was, at yet another press conference, this time to discuss "The Future".

Hermione had been responsible for setting it up. She had become his unofficial publicist since the war ended, and while he was grateful for her efficiency, he sometimes wished she would just give it a break.

"Harry Potter!" a shrill voice interrupted the gaggle of reporters jostling for his attention. He groaned as he recognised Rita Skeeter. _Why couldn't she have died instead of all the others? _The thought flashed in his head before he could quell it; he felt guilty for a fleeting moment before it was quickly replaced by irritation by her next question.

"What does it feel like to finally be recognised as The Hero, beyond a shadow of doubt?"

Harry's jaw clenched. Beside him, he could feel Ron shift in his seat. He knew his best friend was as uncomfortable with the interviews as he was – but he, like Harry, was under strict orders from Hermione to leave all answers to her, unless directly prompted by herself.

"The peace we enjoy now is the result of a collective effort of friends, families and allies across the wizarding and non-wizarding worlds alike. Many have made enormous sacrifices, and each one of us who has suffered for the cause is the real hero of the war," Hermione said smoothly from his other side. Despite his foul mood, Harry had to admit that she had delivered the perfect answer.

The rest of the interview carried on in the same tone – with reporters seemingly trying to top one another with more and more ridiculous questions, and Hermione sending them all scurrying for quotes with her eloquent answers. Harry sighed inwardly as she kicked him under the table, an indication that he should look up and smile.

As he raised his eyes, a sudden flash of white-blond hair caught his eye. He squinted, just about making out the distinctive features of the Malfoys making their way to the front of the crowd. _What are they doing here? _he thought, focusing on Hermione. Their Legilimency skills had considerably improved in the days after the war – they had managed to develop a system that allowed them to communicate discreetly in public, mainly for situations like these where the press was involved.

He had always been surrounded by media attention, but the end of the war had elevated him beyond any kind of _hero _status he had ever experienced, and it had become almost immediately apparent that they needed to at least attempt to control the media before it became a circus. Still, he never let his guard down during a press conference. He was always on the lookout for anything suspicious, and the unexpected appearance of the three ex-Death Eaters was definitely suspicious.

_Who? _asked Hermione, apparently distracted by another barrage of questions.

Before Harry could reply, Ron had kicked him in the shin. "What are the _Malfoys_ doing here?" he spit angrily, which got Hermione's attention.

Harry shrugged. "No idea, but they look like they're up to no good as usual," he muttered. Keeping his eye on them, his mind wandered back to the war – he couldn't quite put his finger on why he felt…_compassion_ for Draco.

"We will be taking the last question," announced Hermione abruptly, and Harry knew she was trying to end the press conference early because of the Malfoys' presence. It had startled her, and Harry felt a sense of uneasiness – Hermione was supposed to be in charge, and he couldn't feel comfortable when she was obviously distracted.

Narcissus Malfoy stepped forward, raising her hand. Harry watched, mesmerized, as she waved her wand – magically, the entire room fell silent as they were enveloped in a shower of delicate white blossoms that seemed to disintegrate the moment they came into contact with any surface.

_Narcissus flowers, _Harry realised with a start.

"I have a question," she said, stepping forward. The crowd of reporters parted as she walked towards the trio, whispering amongst themselves. Flashes were going off – Harry was sure this would make it to the front page news. Ron elbowed him urgently, but he was too engrossed in the unfolding drama to respond.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Mrs Malfoy," she paused. "I don't believe this press conference is open to the public."

"Oh, but we came under the assumption of Harry Potter's hospitality," Narcissus replied, her eyes glinting. "Surely the boy who won the war would be willing to receive our expression of deep gratitude for saving our lives?" she looked straight at him, her gaze piercing.

Harry frowned. _Reply her,_ Hermione was saying in his head, _Tell her thank you and goodbye._

"You don't owe me gratitude any more than you owe those who have laid down their lives," he said, staring directly at the blonde woman. He fought the urge to say something ruder.

Narcissus smiled. "Oh, but you were the last Horcrux, and we cannot – _must not _– forget that," she murmured.

Harry frowned.

"Gratitude aside, I have a question," Narcissus continued, "a question I would not ask if I had a choice."

"You have certainly made us all very curious," Hermione snapped.

"Are you aware, Harry Potter, that he had placed a last curse on you before you destroyed him?" Narcissus was no longer smiling.

"I don't know what you're talking about –" Ron jumped to his feet angrily, "but you'd better get to the point before we start asking some questions of our own about your Death Eater activities during the war!"

Narcissus raised her voice, so that it rang loud and clear: _"Semper Fidelis"_

The crowd fell silent for the second time because of her.

Harry turned to look at Hermione, but she too had fallen silent. Ron sank into his seat, his expression stricken.

_What is it?_ Harry asked, but none of his friends answered. Instead, another, unfamiliar voice entered his consciousness: _Why us? _He frowned, looking around for the source of the voice, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

Narcissus turned to face the reporters, her back to the trio. "Bellatrix Lestrange convinced _Voldemort_ that it would be a good back-up plan," she paused. Harry noticed how her voice quivered when she mentioned Voldemort's name. "So he planted the curse, exactly 3 years ago. It was a cruel little joke to him, something that he felt would give him the ultimate upper hand. What he didn't expect was to be killed at Harry's hands."

She paused, turning to face them once again.

"So, Harry Potter, the boy who won the war – My question to you is, do you know that you are under the _Semper Fidelis_ charm?" This time, Harry met her gaze with confusion.

"Uh, what is the _Semper Fidelis_?" he asked, slightly embarrassed – not to mention very apprehensive at the answer he would get.

Narcissus opened her mouth to answer, but Hermione abruptly silenced her. "We will discuss this in private. This press conference is adjourned," she said coldly, waving her own wand. A transparent shield shrouded the three of them, and they watched as the Malfoys Apparated just as unexpectedly as they had arrived, leaving behind a crowd of highly excited reporters.

"What was _that_ about?" Harry asked Hermione when they managed a retreat to their quarters, completely bewildered.

"We have some fact checking to do," she replied brusquely.

"It's impossible," Ron sputtered beside him. "_Semper Fidelis_?! No fucking way!"

Hermione glared at her boyfriend. "After all we've been through," she started, "you're telling me something _isn't_ possible?" her face was turning red, and Harry knew she was gearing up for an argument. As if on cue, Ron opened his mouth to retort.

"I want to know what's going on! For once, someone _please_ tell me what's going on," he burst out, stepping in between his two closest friends.

Ron and Hermione stood still for a moment, both falling silent. A look of understanding passed between them, and Hermione cleared her throat.

"Narcissus Malfoy was referring to a very old and powerful Charm," she said slowly. "It's older than horcruxes, and through history it's been used for both good and bad…" she trailed off, frowning.

"It's a love spell," Ron said bluntly. "If that Malfoy bitch is telling the truth, Voldemort's cast the most powerful love spell on you."

Harry snorted. "Come on, a _love_ spell? After all that trouble with the horcruxes, you expect me to believe he cast a _love _spell on me?!"

Ron stared at him as if he'd grown an extra eye right in the middle of his forehead. "You don't get it, do you Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Get what, exactly?"

"You're going to die if you don't find out who you've been charmed to under Semper Fidelis," Ron said, rather matter-of-factly.

Harry frowned. "How, exactly, is a love spell going to kill me?"

Ron reddened, turning to Hermione helplessly. "Er…"

"You won't be able to distinguish between your reality and your need for your partner," she said quietly. "It's the worst kind of love, the most desperate and all-consuming. Even killing your partner won't help, because you would spend the rest of your days mourning her loss. Voldemort cursed you with it, because he hoped you would either torture yourself from rejection or from mourning your partner's passing if she died before you did. He must have picked someone who would willingly hurt you as your partner."

Harry stared at her, unable to process what he'd just heard.

"So – what you're saying is…" he trailed off, too shocked to continue.

"We've got some research to do," replied Hermione grimly.


End file.
